TXTNLY

Last Sunday, with an innocence that belies his 15 years, my son asked me “Dad, why is the ice maker in the freezer only making water?”, and I realized that my monthly $500 calamity had come early for April. You see, like some sort of financial menses, every month the uteral lining of my bank account must shed roughly five large owing to some sort of random unforeseen circumstance. Now this money would always, could always, be spent on something better, like a plane ticket to somewhere else, fun audio tech toys or something (perhaps even savings!), but alas no. It is destiny that it be spent on some mundane yet necessary accoutrement of life. Tis the joy of home ownership – it puts the “notso” in Rancho Notso Grande.

So after living in two feet of frozen matter for months, the weather turned near 80 and my fridge had gasped its last gasp. It was sad, but I knew what I had to do. Head to sears, or lowes, neither of which gave me a warm fuzzy as having dealt with both has nearly put me in the fifth floor of the old hospital on several occasions. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t, so I went with lowes as they have a free delivery, free haul away policy. So tuesday after work, I headed up the ribbon of hurt that is 29 north, pulled into the skirt of the big box and strode tentatively, yet resolutely to the appliance section.

It was immediately apparent that 90% of the fridges were out of my league in both price and size, so I asked the red vested kiosk attendant to please direct me to the bargain aisle. Basically, my choices were three, all around 4-500 ducats. I opted for a non descript white fridgedaire. When dealing with the semi geriatric attendant, I had mentioned that my previous fridge had had an ice maker, and was thus hooked to a water in in my house. My new ghetto cold box had no such luxury. “Will this be a problem?” I enquired, even though somewhere in my soul I must have known this to be a foregone conclusion. “No, not at all.” Fine people, I knew this was not true, i did, I really did, but I was so bloated and emotional from having my financial period so early this month… well I guess I just wanted to believe. An irrational choice, to be sure, but I made it.

Why irrational you may well ask. Well, lets just say Lowes has had me pitch three opportunities to gain my customer satisfaction and had swung wildly at each. Three strikes, they should be out, yeah? Yet there I was, tossing yet another softball across the plate. Oh and what strikes they were!

The first came when I needed to re-carpet the rental unit upstairs. Now the upstairs has a very peculiar geometry to it, and I had dutifully mapped the whole bastard out on graph paper. I had worked out a way to use the minimal amount of carpet to cover the entire two rooms scheduled for thick, sound muffling berber goodness. This proved to be quite the conundrum for the crack team of carpet layers that were sent to do the deed. I was at work when I got the call from the carpet guys which distilled down to the following: “There are two ways we can put this carpet in. One way will have enough to cover the area, the other will not work. Which way do you want us to do it?” I pause to let that sink in. Ok so that would not be so bad really, I mean perhaps we all cant be the sharpest staple in the staple gun, no worries, but the thing that irked me is that since the “correct” layout was not specified on the work order, they made me come all the way home and “sign off” on the method it was going go in. Sigh. I was irked, but I was stuck, so I did it.

Strike two was minor, but still a bit breathtaking in its lack of foresight. I had purchased a gas range for the upstairs and again, a contractor from lowes came out to install it. They got the cooking beast up the narrow stairs without significant drywall damage, for which they are to be commended, however, they neglected to bring neither any significant tools, nor any way to create fire. Gas range installation. No fire. No wrench. I provided them with such with a deep sigh. There haven’t been any major explosions hence, but still.

Strike three was simply amazing. As part of the upstairs remodel, I wanted to install a new ceiling fan. I wanted new ceiling fans downstairs in my joint as well so my ill thought out, yet at the time reasonable plan was to hire an expert, watch him do the installation upstairs and replicate his skill myself downstairs. Ah but the best laid plans of mice and men, etc. The installer arrived in a quarter ton tool truck (the irony of which will become apparent shortly) with my boxed fan. I took him upstairs and showed him the spot of the old fan. He got his ladder and go to work while I scrutinized his every move, attempting to commit it to memory. He pulled the blades off, then pulled the shroud and then let out an audible exasperated sigh. I gave him a quizzical glance, and he sighed again and said simply “Bolts.” “Bolts?” I replied. “Yeah, bolts.” Seems mister quarter ton dually tool truck guy had only brought a cordless drill with screwdriver nibs. Whatever that behemoth vehicle contained in its steel stomachs, it was not something that could remove a typical half inch bolt. It was with the rare mixture of amusement, sorrow and frustration that I went downstairs and once again provided my tools to a lowely contractor. But this strike did not end there… As I walked past the stairs I passed the circuit breakers and it occurred to me that the juice was still on, so when I arrived at the scene of the tomfoolery masquerading as installation, I asked the guy if he wanted me to cut the power to the upstairs. He merely looked at me as if I had an extra chromosome and said, and I quote: “Now how am I supposed to know which is the hot wire if the power is out?” While I did not know the answer to this at the time, I was fairly certain there was a way. Still, I figured it was best to let Mr. Tool Time have his way. I had long since given up learning anything of value from this man and headed downstairs. About the time I reached the landing, I heard an audible POP! followed immediately by a clatter, then a house shaking THUMP. I know what you are thinking and you are right. Our genius had found the hot wire the hard way. He had shocked himself good and fallen off the ladder. After checking to see if he was alive, I returned downstairs. On the way, I flipped the circuit breaker anyway. I wanted a lovely fan, not some burned up dead guy in overalls. Turns out the guy was a cabinet maker and his truck was full of saws and shit. Go figure.

So, my fine fellows, you can see the anxiety that this fridge dilemma caused your humble narrator. I must confess to considering pouring myself a nice big bowl of benzodiazapenes prior to embarking on this endeavor, but refrained. I paid for the fridge and arranged for delivery. Red vesty dude said 9am the next day. Excellent thought I, naively. At nine I got a call saying it would be the classic “between 12 and 4″. At 4:00, it became 5:00. At 5 it became “no later than 6″ and finally at 6:45, a budget rent a truck shows up with my cold making box. And then the fun began! The men came in and immediately keyed in on the 1/4 copper water line, which they said they could do nothing about. This of course meant that they could neither disconnect nor let alone remove my old fridge. Seeing as I had all the food that had not yet perished strewn about my kitchen, I made the point that installation today was mandatory.They suggested I install the new fridge in the (even smaller) laundry room temporarily, which for various reasons I found unacceptable. I told them to just install the fridge in the kitchen and I would deal with capping the water line myself. Of course bringing in the new fridge required disassembling two doors, and that required the borrowing of my tools once again. Said tool use ended up injuring one of the men, who spilled his blood all over my floor in pursuit of his noble cause. This of course lead to me providing basic first aid in the form of bandaids, butterflies and neosporin. At long last, the new fridge sprang to life.

So then it was eight o’clock, and I sat amongst melting frozen things, blood, dust and an array of tools considering the layout of my new cooking area, which for the time being is replete with two giant refrigerators. I guess for a while I could brag I have a side by side refrigerator, but really, that more literal than most people would understand. I have considered calling Lowes and demanding that they send out a plumber to cap my line gratis, but then I considered how that probably end up. They would probably send out someone who specializes in roofing and before you know it my corner of belmont would be underwater. I guess Im gonna try and figure it out on my own this weekend as the odds are at least as good as the professionals at Lowes, but if you don’t hear from me for a while it is because I have some how managed to drown myself in my kitchen. Wish me luck!